A strange kind of love
by Sereq ieh Dashret
Summary: How Mez'Barris Del'Armgo met her weird Weapons Master and how they rose to prominence. Before the events in the books, a tale of intrigue, subterfuge, not-exactly-romance and a lot of buttkicking. Mez'Barris/Uthegental. Rated for several reasons.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the original FR characters. They belong to their respective owners/authors. I do own the OCs, however.**

**I've been re-reding Siege of Darkness and started wondering about the relationship between the weird Weapons Master of the Second House and his Matron. He was quite an interesting character (I mean a hardcore punk drow gladiator, yay!) and he is shown to have much more freedom of action than most Patrons and more self expression than anyone except Jarlaxle. How did he meet the Matron? How did their relationship develop?**

**Here's my take at it, hope you like it.**

**Will be multichapter and will contain violence and lemons. This is about drows, not pansies. I'd feel silly to write anything lower than T-rated about drow.**

**CHAPTER WARNING: violence, a bit of bloodplay and lemon.  
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**Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. To all who were reding Misplaced, please do not kill me, I'll get back to it as soon as the inspiration returns. Meanwhile, there will be enough action and sarcasm in this, I hope.**

**EDIT: formatting. It was awful, I apologize.  
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><p>Jhaelas' ragtag band of gladiators and mercenaries was the only family, speaking in the loosest possible sense, Uthegental had even known.<br>His birth family, as far as he remembered, which was not much since he had left it probably before hitting fifteen, had been of rather poor artisans, not exactly bottom feeders, but not much higher up in the food chain.  
>They already had an older boy and two girls and they didn't really need an awkward boy who was already taller than his mother and ate more than his siblings combined. He didn't exactly know how much Jhaelas gave them for him, but surely the old half-drow businessman had recovered his expenses several tens of times over with him.<br>Jhaelas had a keen eye for business and bargains and had put his investment to work immediately.  
>As a kid, he had worked as a messenger and errand-boy, but as soon as Jhaelas thought he was old enough, which meant he was probably too young by any other standard, the old ringmaster put him to train with the rest of the troop.<br>He couldn't be too sure because he didn't really know how old he was, but he suspected he hit the battlefield before thirty, when other drow youths were still in school, but he didn't mind.  
>He was good at fighting, very good, and his freakish stature and build were an advantage in that, when usually they were cause for insults and despise.<br>Uthegental had lost the count of how many times people had whispered behind his back or told him to his face that one of his parents must have been a human or even an orc and of how many people he had killed or severely maimed for that, along the years.  
>As far as he remembered, both his parents had been full-blooded drow, but one can never be entirely sure of his ancestors.<br>Despite his humble origins and problematic lineage, he was now one of the most feared gladiators of the Underdark and surely the best fighter in Jhaelas troop.  
>He had accrued enough money in prizes and booty to buy his freedom back from the half-drow ringmaster, but he had no reason to do so.<br>He lived for fighting, couldn't do anything apart from that and travelling with Jhaelas' troop ensured that he didn't have to provide for himself and was never too far away from a good fight, be it in the arena or in some mercenary venture.  
>Jhaelas was wise enough not to get involved into power struggles between houses, but working for merchants was anything but boring.<br>Why should he change this life for an employment as a soldier in some Noble House or other?  
>The chances of getting a post as Weapons Master, being an ex-slave and not having trained in some posh Academy, were as slim as a gnome's ass.<br>Uthegental surely didn't want to serve under one of those posh noble swodrsboys or to bow and scrape to a matron, thank you very much.  
>He was happy enough as he was, free but in name, doing what he liked to do without a care in the world, almost.<p>

Noble House Baenre, the First House of Menzoberranzan, was organizing a lavish festival for its matriarch's eight hundredth birthday, a massive affair with all sorts of splendid entertainment and was hiring the most renowned gladiatorial companies to have performances staged over the course of at least six months.  
>Jhaelas was never one to refuse a good contract and there wouldn't be another as good as this for centuries, probably, that's why the troop had moved to the City of Spiders.<br>The last time he had been in Menzoberranzan, Uthegental had been a green youth barely out of his thirties and remembered the city as something out of a dream, with soaring towers and stately mansions.  
>Returning there after almost seventy years, he had to admit that the city looked still splendid even to his now-jaded eyes, a thing of dark beauty and power, bustling with activity and schemes, a fascinating place.<br>The Baenre and their flunkies had spared no effort for the Old Prune's jubilee.  
>An amphitheatre-cum-barracks had been hastily constructed and the various gladiatorial troops had been housed there, in separate buildings to prevent unscheduled fights.<br>The schedule was already packed enough that nobody wanted to waste men and blood in petty rivalries when there was a contract to be fulfilled: there would be single combats, to death or otherwise, group fights, venationes against wild beasts from the Underdark and even the re-enactment of a couple of historical fights.  
>Uthegental couldn't wait for the game to be on.<p>

Thanks to his exalted status as top fighter of the troop, he had been housed in a single, rather big room rather than in a dormitory.  
>On one side, he couldn't complain because the bed was much better than the pallets the others had got and at least he wouldn't have to put up with the snores and farts of his fellow gladiators, but a single room also meant that Jhaelas wanted or at least hoped for him to entertain wealthy ladies.<br>It would not be the first time, not at all, but Uthegental still dreaded it.  
>The jalils surely didn't want to bed him for his beauty or wit, of both of which he had a sparing amount.<br>Usually, his clients were the most frustrated females around, those who wanted to vent their anger at something or someone and who found it really empowering to tie him somewhere and beat him silly or otherwise humiliate him.  
>Jhaelas had obviously nothing against it, as long as they didn't do any lasting damage or paid extra if that was the case.<br>Even his outlandish appearance, with multiple ear piercings, a ring in his nose and short, spiked hair, did nothing to deter the ladies.  
>The taste of the exotic spiced up the experience, Jhaelas said.<br>During their last stay in Sschryndlyn, Uthegental had had a regular customer, a tiny priestess of a rather unimportant, low-ranking Noble House with a very short temper and a huge ego, who saw offenses where there were none and got her kicks out of tying him to the bed and slapping him on his face while she had his way with him, very selfishly leaving him unsatisfied every single time.  
>By the Goddess, he hated being slapped!<br>After her third visit in as many weeks, he couldn't stand it anymore and went to a tattoo shop in the lower district and got both his cheeks pierced.  
>It hurt like hell, but the next time she came he was already sporting steel spikes and she couldn't bloody well slap him anymore.<br>Small victory, because that obviously sent her into a fit of fury and the bastard whipped him within an inch of his life.  
>He had to remain in bed for a week, afterwards, but at least she didn't seek him out anymore.<br>He hoped to the Goddess he wouldn't get anything like that this time around, but the Goddess was notoriously cruel and would probably send him something worse.  
>He had heard that the Old Prune Baenre, despite her ancient age was still very keen on men.<br>The worst that could happen to him would be getting a summons from her.  
>He highly doubted he could concentrate and abstract enough, imagining to be somewhere else, anywhere else, to be able to perform in that case.<br>Uthegental shivered in disgust and shook his head.  
>It would do him much better to concentrate on training.<br>Whatever the Goddess willed would happen and there was no sense in trying to anticipate her will.  
>He was confident he would be able to survive whatever was sent to him, as usual.<p>

Mez'Barris Armgo, second daughter of House Barrison Del'Armgo liked to fight and to watch people fight a bit too much than it was considered acceptable for a noble drow female.  
>She appeared to be unsubtle and rather dull, also because she was rather taller and more muscular than it was fashionable among the quality, but apart from her penchant for fighting, she had a great understanding of tactics and strategy and knew how to play with the cards that were dealt her, even if they were not wonderful.<br>At the moment, she was not engaged in any scheme, however and just wanted to enjoy herself.  
>The Baenre might be a bunch of stuck-up bastards, but, by the Goddess, they knew how to organize an event.<br>The arena, built mainly on their allies' expenses if one wanted to give credit to rumours, was big enough to house twenty-five thousand people and the fighters had been sourced throughout the Underdark to provide the best entertainment available and so far they had lived up, and sometimes died rather messily, to her expectations.  
>The main event of the day was supposed to be the next fight: a guy billed only as Streeaka Droc'uh, the Crazy Dragon, against a Quick Jhuldaer, the Red Striker, both champions of their respective gladiatorial troops, who would fight to the death.<br>The contenders entered the arena amid a roar of applause and encouragement.  
>Quick Jhuldaer looked like the average drow swordsman, albeit wearing an outrageous red suit with flashy boots and a swishing cape.<br>Mez'Barris had the impression that he would show nothing more exciting than any graduate from Melee Maghtere could.  
>The one called Streeaka Droc'uh, instead, was really remarkable.<br>He was the tallest and strongest drow Mez'Barris had ever seen, probably a bit over six feet tall and heavily muscled, and sported unusually short hair and quite a lot of piercings.  
>Clad only in a skin-tight pair of lizardskin pants and boots, his face and chest streaked with red and yellow body paint, he wielded a huge trident and a net and, according to Mez'Barris, looked positively exciting.<br>Both contenders bowed to the matrons in honour seats and to the rest of the public.  
>There was a hush among the crowd as the opponents stiffly bowed to each other and then Quick Jhuldaer darted fast as lightning and scored a hit on his opponent's chest.<br>The Crazy Dragon didn't even flinch, even if blood was running on his skin to the waist.  
>For a moment Mez'Barris thought that maybe she had been mistaken and the exotic stranger was just ornamental and was not really good in a fight, then Quick Jhuldaer darted again, smirking as if he had the victory in his hands, and his opponent evaded the cut easily, almost lazily.<br>"I've let you nick me on purpose, the first time, just for kicks. Now it is my turn." the Crazy Dragon said with a menacing smile.  
>To his credit, the Red Striker remained undaunted and launched a quick series of thrusts and slashes, which the bigger man either evaded or blocked with his trident and then, in a blink, Quick Jhuldaer was being held in the bigger man's grip, thrashing and screaming, his sword arm twisted at an odd angle, his own sword embedded quite painfully in his guts.<br>His opponent's trident and net were abandoned on the floor of the arena.  
>"How boring…" the Crazy Dragon commented and gutted his opponent to the throat like a fish.<br>The crowd exploded in a roar of appreciation as the winner let the corpse fall to the floor and bowed to the public again, smirking like a warp-beast who had just gotten a tubful of cream.  
>Mez'Barris had never seen anything half so sexy and savage in her entire life and had never felt so awfully turned on by a male.<br>Without a second thought, she abandoned her seat.  
>Even if there were more fights after that, she had already seen all she wanted to see.<br>She slinked out of the public area and into the backstage.  
>She had to find the Crazy Dragon's manager before someone else got the same idea.<p>

Unfortunately, his fight on the opening day had been a big disappointment.  
>He had hoped for something close, he would have liked to have to work for it, to risk it, instead his opponent had been a showy brat in a ridiculous costume, fast as hell but with the same amount of creativity as a snail.<br>Really, what did the organizers think?  
>If that was the champion of his troop, the rest of it must be composed entirely of idiots.<br>Uthegental was still feeling quite frustrated. He had hoped for a good fight to vent his anger, of which he seemed to always have more than enough to spare, and got that travesty instead.  
>"What else could happen today?" he asked himself.<br>As if on cue, the door of his room opened. Uthegental turned, thinking it would be some servant bringing water for his bath, and met the green gaze of an unknown, richly-dressed jalil.  
>"Why did I ask?" he thought to himself, resigned.<br>The newcomer was tall enough that the top of her head almost reached his chin and strongly built, dressed in an embroidered, dark green mini-top-and-baggy-pants outfit that showed off nicely her muscled shoulders and arms and her toned midriff, her hair bound in cornrows woven with jade charms.  
>She was looking at him with hunger, almost, judging by the way her eyes racked up and down his body and by how she licked her lips with her pink tongue.<br>"Up close you're even better." the jalil said.  
>Her voice was pleasantly rough and low-pitched, he noticed, and then she closed the distance and, grabbing the short hair on the back of his head, pressed her lips to his in a passionate, hungry kiss.<br>Uthegental's head swam and his trousers apparently tightened.  
>Never before had any of his customers kissed him that way, as if they really lusted after him instead of wanting to use him as stress relief.<br>It felt quite good, hell, no, it felt really good, especially when her hands started to roam all over his chest and shoulders, exploring him.  
>He had to struggle with himself to be a good jaluk and not overstep his bounds, but he managed to keep his hands by his sides even if some part of him, or rather the most of him, wanted to tear that mini-top off her and do the same to her.<br>As if overhearing his thoughts, and it could be since he was thinking so hard about it, the jalil grabbed one of his hands into hers (her hands were calloused as a warrior's and he liked that) and guided it to her breast, sliding it underneath her top.  
>His mind clouded almost instantaneously with lust and his second hand moved to her other breast of its own accord and, judging from the way she was moaning into the kiss, the jalil was enjoying it.<br>Her breasts were firm and perky, the skin silken under his touch and the nipples already pebbled in excitement.  
>Suddenly, and without even having to concentrate on it, his pants felt even tighter than before.<br>The jalil apparently decided that it was the perfect moment to grind herself against him and, to his immense chagrin, he couldn't stifle a moan when their bodies got in contact.  
>The jalil broke the kiss and Uthegental knew he was going to be reprimanded, but the jalil only sneaked a hand down from his chest downwards and squeezed him not quite gently through his pants.<br>Uthegental ground his teeth to stifle another moan and managed to turn it into a hiss.  
>That jalil was going to drive him completely crazy, even crazier than he usually was.<br>"It seems like you are big everywhere… I like it." she said playfully and Uthegental felt almost embarrassed about her appreciation and then the damned jalil unfastened his trousers and her hand closed around his manhood and even the self-control he had developed along the years was not enough to keep him from moaning and bucking into her hand.  
>"By the Goddess, you're eager, aren't you?" she whispered, stroking him again, harder.<br>He whimpered hopelessly.  
>He knew that some sort of shit was bound to happen later, but, Goddess, he almost didn't care as long as she didn't stop.<br>"It is good. – she continued, her hand sliding slowly along his twitching cock – I am glad you want me, because I want you very much."  
>Oh, hell, Uthegental thought, her hands… And her voice...<br>He almost couldn't wait until she backed him into the bed and started fucking him.  
>He'd bet that she would ride him harder than she would a lizard-mount and maybe she would let him come.<br>Uthegental was not overly religious, but he felt himself praying fervently that it was the case and that his customer was not one of those jalil who got her kicks out of riling males up only to leave them hanging.  
>"I've never seen anything half so handsome as you…" she whispered, standing on tiptoes to give a brief lick to his earlobe.<br>Well, yes, the jalil was definitely crazy, or maybe just perverse, or only tasteless, perhaps, but he was not going to complain about it.  
>Most definitely not.<br>The jalil let go of his manhood, which was bad in the short term, but started backing him towards the bed, which was definitely good in the long term, because if she had kept stroking him any longer, he sure as hell wouldn't have lasted long enough to satisfy her.  
>She pushed him back until the back of his knees hit the bedstead and then shoved him onto the matrass.<br>He inwardly rejoiced.  
>Almost there, he told himself, resist just a bit more.<br>The jalil quickly stripped out of her clothes and he frantically tried to get rid of his boots and his trousers.  
>The wound on his chest troubled him a bit when he bent down to get his boots off, but it could wait.<br>Priorities are fundamental: get laid first, get healed later. It was not like it was anything too serious.  
>"Does it hurt you?" she asked.<br>She was completely naked now and she was absolutely gorgeous and her eyes sparkled mischievously.  
>It took him several tries to find his voice and it sounded rougher than usual.<br>"Do not worry, mistress. – he replied – It is just a fleshwound."  
>The jalil smiled and cocked her head slightly to the side, and then suddenly she was on her knees in front of him.<br>"What?" he thought, completely astonished.  
>Her pink tongue darted out and licked along the gash in his skin.<br>Uthegental gasped, he didn't even know if it was pleasure or pain, maybe a bit of both, but it was amazing.  
>Her arms sneaked around his waist and she nudged his legs apart and settled between them so that her front rubbed against his aching manhood and her tongue traced the wound gently, oh so gently.<br>He was beyond words, almost, but not beyond gasping and whimpering and trembling.  
>His hands balled into the bedclothes and he was almost to the point of begging her to fuck him, when she stopped and disentangled herself from him, licking her lips.<br>"You taste good…" she said and he felt almost dizzy with lust.  
>She finally climbed onto the bed and straddled him, dragging him into another breath-taking kiss.<br>He could taste his own blood onto her lips and for some reason this aroused him even more.  
>"Please, please, please…" he repeated in his head, urging her silently to do with him whatever she wanted, but the infuriatingly sexy jalil stopped again and rolled them over, ending up sprawling onto the bed on her back and dragging him on top of her.<br>Uthegental gritted his teeth as his wound gave a twinge and looked a question to her. What was all that about?  
>The jalil smiled seductively and wound her hands into his spiky hair.<br>"I want you on top of me. – she whispered in his ear – Inside me. - Her legs wrapped around his waist – I want you to shove that big cock of yours into me, hard, and make me scream." she said and Uthegental felt his head spinning madly from lack of blood.  
>It must have gone all south in an instant, he thought.<br>It was awfully erotic, but almost unheard of.  
>The place of a male was on the bottom, a tool to pleasure his mistress.<br>Even if he wanted nothing more than do exactly as she asked, he hesitated a moment.  
>The jalil sighed.<br>"I know you want to. And I want it too. – she grabbed one of his hands again and guided it between her legs – Feel how wet I am for you…" she breathed in his ear. Uthegental shuddered.  
>Yes, she was so wet and warm and her womanly folds were invitingly open for him. How could he resist?<br>Even if she was a messenger from Lolth, ready to punish him afterwards for doing something so daring and almost blasphemous, at this point there was no going back. He had to have her.  
>He positioned himself against her folds and gently pressed into her.<br>Oh, hell, she was not only hot and wet but also wonderfully tight, squeezing his cock like a vice grip.  
>It took every ounce of his self-control not to shove it all the way in, but to ease into her, especially with her moaning and trembling as she was. ~Once he was all the way in (and he felt like they fit together as pieces of a jigsaw) he stopped for a moment to regain his breath and allow her to adjust to the feeling.<br>"Go. Do it." she urged him after a handful of seconds, biting on his neck.  
>He had never been happier to oblige a jalil.<br>He withdrew almost all the way out and then slammed himself all the way back in and she cried out in pleasure, holding on to him ferociously.  
>Goddess, it felt so good to pound himself into her mercilessly, to hear her scream and whimper, to feel her shake and tremble, her heartbeat frantic, her nails scoring paths onto his back and arms.<br>He knew he had to control himself and stop before it was too late, but the jalil stopped screaming and arched her back almost painfully, all her body tensing and then she started to convulse, screaming at the top of her lungs.  
>Her womanhood constricted around him, clenching and unclenching rhythmically and his own climax caught him unawares, causing him to spill himself inside her with a savage roar.<br>It took him long moments to realize what he had done and, even then, part of him was scared shitless and felt guilty, while the rest of him was still floating around like mushroom stalks on water and just feeling too good to care.  
>It took him even longer to find his breath and collect his thoughts enough to stammer excuses to the still-unnamed jalil.<br>She just gave him a relaxed smile and stroked his hair. "I'd be happy to beget warriors as strong and handsome as you are." she said calmly and, not for the first time that day, Uthegental was struck completely speechless.  
>That jalil was completely unbelievable.<br>The jalil laughed, which was not entirely a good idea, because it made something in her body contract and squeeze his softening manhood still inside her.  
>He gasped breathlessly and laid his head on her shoulder.<br>"Roll us over, if you please. – she said – You're quite heavy."  
>Without even thinking about it, Uthegental obeyed and found himself where he should have been, stretched on the bed with the jalil on top of him.<br>"That's better." she said impishly, folding her arms on his chest and resting her head on top of them.  
>Her green eyes zeroed in on his face with such intensity that he felt like squirming away and hiding.<br>"Now, now, - she said, noticing his unease – there is no need to be shy. I like you. Do you have a name other than Streeaka Droc'uh?"  
>He nodded. "My name is Uthegental, mistress." he replied.<br>He was curious about her name as well, even just to treasure it when she went away, her curiosity and lust sated, but he was in no position to ask.  
>Jalils sometimes wished to have a little fun incognito.<br>The jalil nodded approvingly. "I like it. And how did you come by such interesting nickname?" she enquired, gently stroking his chin.  
>"Just a mercenary joke, mistress." he replied.<br>"Pray, tell me. It must be interesting." she insisted and Uthegental obliged, not only because it was an order, albeit indirect, but because it was the first time one of his customers was interested in him as a person and not just in his, well, equipment.  
>"I was way younger, it was my first mission and I was drinking with some other mercenaries in a tavern when one of the patrons started saying I was half-orc. – he narrated, detached - I was drinking some distilled fungus spirit for a dare, it was awful, but strong and I was a bit drunk, so I got a torch from the wall and took a mouthful of alcohol and somehow managed to set him on fire. This caused a bar fight, obviously enough, and I was so angry and drunk that I got to two of the guy's friends before anyone could stop me and get me out of there. Afterwards, my boss started calling me like that and somehow the name stuck. And to be rumoured to have dragon's blood is surely better than to be suspected to be half-orc."<br>"How old were you?" she asked, laughing silently.  
>"I do not really know, mistress. Young." Uthegental replied. "Possibly too young." he thought to himself.<br>"You know, - she said cheerfully, changing topic rather abruptly – this turned out to be even better than I had imagined. I guess you had never done this before, however."  
>Uthegental shook his head. "I am glad that I pleased you despite my ignorance, mistress." he replied, politely accepting the compliment.<br>The jalil laughed. "And did you enjoy it?" she whispered seductively, dipping her head to kiss him again.  
>"Yes…" he replied in a low, tight voice at the end of the kiss, feeling his manhood stiffen again, still inside her.<br>"Would you like to do it again?" asked the seductress, wriggling on his lap.  
>Uthegental closed his eyes and arched his back slightly at the friction.<br>"Yes, Goddess help me, yes…" he replied and she rolled them all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the original FR characters. They belong to their respective owners/authors. I do own the OCs, however.**

**CHAPTER WARNING: lime and deviousness.  
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**Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof. (unlikely that it would happen, since no one seems to care enough to review, even if 29 people read it, but anyway...)  
><strong>

**Enjoy!**

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><p>They had ended up doing it a couple more times, that day, and, at the end, before she left, sated and satisfied, the jalil told him her name.<br>Mez'Barris Armgo, second daughter of the Second House.  
>A princess of noble blood.<br>Every time he thought about it, he couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief and yet he couldn't stop thinking about her, about what they had done together.  
>He couldn't have asked anything better than for her to return, but he knew it was improbable.<br>She was too highborn to cavort with a scumbag such as him and the tales of nobleborn ladies choosing peasants or even whores as their lovers where just that, tales. The probabilities of seeing her again were slim, unless he somehow crossed her path in the street, but at least he would have something to remember her by.  
>In the end he had decided not to go to the healer about the wound he had received in that first duel: he healed fast enough and it was really nothing more than a shallow gash.<br>It would leave a scar, so that at least he could be sure that his encounter with the princess had not been a dream.  
>Life went on and he had a contract to fulfil, there was no time for maudlin sentiment and yet Uthegental felt like he had to remember.<p>

Mez'Barris had emerged from the gladiator's barracks sore that day, but happy and light-headed. It truly had been a fruitful encounter.  
>The boy hadn't only been well endowed and strong (for the love of the Goddess, she would have serious trouble sitting in the next days!), which would have been enough, but also very keen on pleasing her to the best of his abilities and the way he looked at her as if she was wonderful and generous made her feel extremely powerful. Definitely value for money she told herself, returning to her family's palace.<br>During the course of the next two weeks, Mez'Barris had been too busy securing an alliance with Tal'queyllen H'Tithet, Matron Mother of the small and apparently unimportant, but in truth well versed in commerce and intrigue, Twenty-ninth House to seek dalliances and had almost managed to convince herself that the gladiator, however sexy, was too lowborn to merit her attention. He was just a glorified combat slave, after all, a step over a common whore, but not much more. What would her mother and her elder sister think, if they knew about her escapade? And what would they think if she repeated the experience?  
>Determined to keep away from the arena, but needing an outlet for the sexual frustration she had accumulated over the last two weeks, she invited one of her occasional lovers to her chambers. Solavin was one of the officers of the Armgo elite infantry company, a competent swordsman and quite handsome and he was genuinely trying his best to please her, but all his efforts still left her cold and, after a while, she dismissed him, even more frustrated.<br>"Damn it! -she thought – Possible that a single tryst with that boy had spoiled me for my usual lovers?" Mez'Barris silently fumed at the thought and decided to take the matter in her own hands. Sometimes it took a jalil to do the job of a jaluk.  
>She lay on her bed, trying to think of something arousing enough to set her off and, to her chagrin, the only thing that aroused her enough was the thought of him, the Lolth-damned gladiator, of his joy and disbelief when she asked him if he wanted her again, of him pinning her down to the bed and taking her hard, still looking at her with reverence, of the knowledge that she had had him completely in thrall. Mez'Barris cursed foully and fluently and scrambled down from the bed.<br>What was happening to her? She had never been so obsessed about a boy before, never in her life, even if she had had quite a few lovers, some of which reputedly beautiful.  
>"What am I to do now?" she asked herself, sitting at her desk and thumping her fist on the hard surface.<br>She wanted to go back to the barracks and have him again, her body craved that, but what of the consequences? Her relatives would think that she couldn't think higher than her privates, she would fall in their consideration and she couldn't allow that. Or could she?  
>If her mother and sister thought that she was too sex-addled to care for her reputation, they would likely underestimate her and, beneath their notice, that would give her ampler space to manoeuvre to a position where she could increase her assets and influence.<br>Yes, - she told herself, pacing across her bedchamber, still naked – they would not notice her until it was too late.  
>Besides, the boy himself, even if not a genius, was quite an asset, in the bedchamber and otherwise.<br>Even feigning disinterest, she couldn't help but overhearing the tales of his exploits in the arena.  
>Apparently, what he had done on that first day had been just an appetizer.<br>Mez'Barris nodded to herself. She needed a capable warrior loyal only to her and the boy seemed besotted enough that maybe, with time and cunning, she could convince him to stand at her side in her climb to power. It wouldn't be hard, she surmised, and it would be fun, that it would be.  
>A win-win situation, really.<br>It could prove harder to convince his master to part with him: the boy seemed to be one of his most prized slaves and he would probably ask an extortionate price, but that was a thought for later.  
>First, she told herself, rummaging into her closet for something sexy to wear, she needed to secure the boy's undivided loyalty.<p>

When she arrived at the barracks, the fights had already stopped for the day and everything was more or less quiet.  
>Jhaelas the half-drow, however, was still poring over ledgers in a makeshift office by the light of a candle stub.<br>Despite the late hour, the ringmaster was very happy to see her, remembering her and her coin from the previous encounter.  
>Quite a large sum of money changed hands and she was shown to the door of the boy's sleeping quarters.<br>The boy himself was sitting at a table, honing a dagger with methodical and rhythmic strokes, clad only in a pair of loose-fitting serge trousers.  
>"Can't sleep, Crazy Dragon?" she asked seductively from the doorway, hands on her hips.<br>He jumped up in surprise, dagger at the ready, then saw her and relaxed a fraction. "Mistress… How..? Why..?" he stammered, confused, his eyes inexorably drawn to the neckline of her form-fitting, black, spidersilk dress.  
>The bloody neckline reached almost to her navel and, to tell the truth, she usually felt very self-conscious of her unfashionably broad silhouette in that dress, but he was looking upon her with such awe that every hint of self-doubt disappeared from her mind.<br>"I'm honoured of your visit, mistress…" he managed, regaining enough self-control to bow to her.  
>Mez'Barris, sashayed seductively towards him, smiling.<br>In her platform-heeled sandals (which she hated to wear, but she figured it would be just for a short while) she was almost as tall as him and could look him straight in the eye.  
>He quickly averted his gaze and she wound a hand in his short hair, pulling just a bit and forcing him to look at her again.<br>"Did you miss me, Uthegental?" she whispered in his ear and the warrior shivered slightly.  
>"Every day, mistress." he replied dutifully, but his voice sounded already rough with desire.<br>Either he was really good at pretending or he was really affected by her.  
>She was betting on the second, but one can never know with professionals.<br>She released his hair and started running her hands on his warm, coal black skin.  
>Drow males were usually toned but slender, lithe, while he was heavily muscled, but she admitted to liking very much to let her hands roam on the planes, ridges and dips of his broad chest.<br>His breathing became heavier as she proceeded with her leisurely exploration.  
>She felt the ridge of a scar under her fingertips on the side of his chest.<br>"Another paltry opponent?" she queried.  
>The warrior seemed very much embarrassed by her question and blushed an adorable shade of crimson.<br>"No, mistress." he replied quietly, looking down, and, in a flash of enlightenment, she understood.  
>He had let the wound heal on its own and scar as a memento of their lovemaking.<br>Mez'Barris felt a thrill of joy course through her veins.  
>He was not faking it, he was truly and well besotted with her.<br>That was perfect. She'd have an easy and fun time of convincing him to be permanently hers. He would come willingly, eventually, she was sure of it now.  
>Smiling sweetly, she kneeled in front of him and quickly flicked her tongue over the scar.<br>"Did you think of me, of your blood on my lips, of your cock inside me?" she asked, grinding her chest against his already hardened manhood.  
>He nodded wordlessly, eyes wide, almost trembling.<br>Her hands fleeted over the bulge in his trousers.  
>"Did you touch yourself thinking of me?" she asked again quietly and increased the pressure of her touch.<br>Uthegental hissed between clenched teeth to stifle a groan. That was no fun, she wanted to hear him and know that he had given up his control.  
>She was glad he wasn't wearing leather, otherwise he wouldn't have felt it so much when she licked at him through the fabric.<br>Now he did cry out and the sound sent a thrill through her veins.  
>"Did you?" she quested again, squeezing him gently and rubbing her hand up and down.<br>"Yes, for Lolth's sake, mistress, yes I did!" he exclaimed frantically, knees almost buckling.  
>She quickly tugged at the waistband of his trousers, letting them slide down, grateful that he appeared to be of the no-smallclothes persuasion and took him in hand, stroking him firmly but gently.<br>"This is much better than that, isn't it?" she purred seductively.  
>"Yes, sweet Mother of Dark, yes! Yes it is!" he sounded almost desperate and she liked it.<br>"Mine. – she thought, standing up again without letting go of him and leading him to the bed – Only mine."  
>Definitely a win-win situation.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the original FR characters. They belong to their respective owners/authors. I do own the OCs, however.**

**CHAPTER WARNING: quite a bit of BDSM, bloodplay and lemon.**

**Next updates will be erratic, as I've resumed writing for my original fiction project(s), but the plot will speed up a bit, with fewer lemons and more ass-kicking.  
><strong>

**Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The princess came back the following week and then the week after that and again.<br>Some weeks she even visited twice and when for any reason she missed a week, on her following visit their coupling would be even more frantic and needy.  
>For the first time in his life, having sex was not just a job, a duty, but an exquisite pleasure.<br>She liked it rough and he totally didn't mind it, even when he was on the receiving end of it, he was even a bit annoyed that the marks she left on him seemed to fade away too quickly.  
>It was wonderful and it seemed that she couldn't get enough of him as much as he couldn't get enough of her.<br>He adored the way she seemed to enjoy pushing the limits of appropriateness with him, ordering him to pleasure her in definitely transgressive ways , loved the curve of her back and the full firmness of her buttocks when she had him take her from behind, the way she could always make him lose control and confess how much he liked her, how much she affected him and he worshipped her for always letting him reach him peak within her.  
>He didn't recall ever being so happy before: he fought almost every day and had the best sex he had ever imagined to have.<br>Life couldn't get much better, could it?

Obviously enough, there was somebody who was not entirely happy with the situation, even if he was benefiting from it.  
>Jhaelas' mood was often sour even in the best of times and Uthegental didn't pay him excessive heed when he muttered under his breath upon seeing the marks his princess (if she ever knew he claimed ownership of her, even in his thoughts, she would probably be outraged) had left on him or when he saw her head to his bedchamber and leave only hours later or even, a couple of times, only the morning after.<br>Jhaelas was too old and sour to remember what it feels like to be desired, he mused.

After a couple of months of happiness, one morning, after waking up still tangled with her (they had exhausted themselves enough the previous night that she couldn't go back to her palace – the very idea made his heart swell with pride), Jhaelas came upon him during his training.  
>"I need to speak with you, boy." was all he said and Uthegental obediently put down his weapons and followed him to his provisional office.<br>Jhaelas sat at his desk and Uthegental simply leaned against the wall, crossing his arms on his chest.  
>"What's up boss? It looks like you've swallowed a whole pickled ginger root." he asked, smiling. Jhaelas didn't usually mind good-natured teasing.<br>"It's about your regular." the half-drow replied with a grimace.  
>"What about it?" Uthegental retorted.<br>"I don't like the way things are evolving between her and you." the half-drow said, frowning.  
>"But you like her money, don't you?" Uthegental teased, grinning.<br>"Yes, yes, of course, you stupid boy. I'm glad about the money. – Jhaelas said, waving a hand in the air, irritated – I just don't like what this is doing to you. It's giving you ideas, I know."  
>"Me, ideas? I wouldn't be able to recognize an idea if it bit me on the ass, boss." the warrior said, good-naturedly.<br>"Do not play the fool with me, boy. You know what I mean. Don't let yourself be fooled: she is just using you, nothing more." the ringmaster scowled.  
>"I know, but as long as she keeps using me, I do not really mind, boss. I do not mind at all." he replied, with another wide grin.<br>Jhaelas shook his head. "You're hopeless, boy. Can you only think about sex, for the Dark Mother's sake? - he ranted - Go away, get on with your training. At least your crazy romps with that noble brat haven't spoiled your performance in the arena…" he sighed then.  
>Uthegental laughed and turned to the exit. "A satisfied jaluk fights better, it is known." he said from over his shoulder.<br>The ringmaster scowled again and slammed the door after him.

For all his bluster in the confrontation with his master, Uthegental knew, deep in his heart, that he was doing exactly what Jhaelas had warned him to avoid.  
>Rationally, he knew that his relation with his princess was based exclusively on mutual profit and carnal lust, yet he couldn't help but wanting it to be something more.<br>He was no longer emotionally detached and this was an error that could prove fatal, but it was so hard to pretend that the look of desire in her eyes didn't affect him in any other way than physically, that her praise, however fake it might be, didn't make him proud, that the nights when she snuggled close to him in her reverie and he almost didn't want to succumb to the reverie too to better savour the sensation didn't mean anything to him.  
>She understood him better than anyone else, better even than his own master, who had raised him since when he was a child, and she seemed to appreciate him even with all his defects or rather, which was even more astonishing, she didn't see them as faults.<br>She talked to him, wanted to know him, what use was that to her?  
>Why did she do that if she didn't care?<br>What was a jaluk supposed to do when everything he desired in a relationship was dangled in front of him?  
>He knew it was bloody unprofessional on his part, but much of his happiness depended on his princess' continued patronage and, deep inside, he dreaded the moment when Jhaelas' troop would march out of the City of Spiders again.<br>He was not melodramatic as to say he would never be content again, away from her, but he knew he would regret leaving her.

Weeks passed by and the princess kept returning and he knew it was wrong, that he was leaving himself open and vulnerable, but he was happy.  
>If only he could stop time in this moment, he would.<br>But time didn't stop and it crawled steadily towards the moment when the festival would end and he would have to leave, instead.  
>Contrary to his earlier ideas about freedom and submission, he had entertained the idea of buying himself out of the company and offering his services to her only, but what if she was growing bored of him, what if the novelty of the experience was already fading and she didn't want him anymore? What if she had no use for him except in bed?<br>No, the best course of action was to follow through with the expected pattern of behaviour. She was just a customer, however long might their work relationship have been. Surely he, the terror of the arena, the mighty warrior, was not so weak as to be overwhelmed by the loss.  
>Sometimes he knew he was.<p>

For the last few months, Mez'Barris had been a very satisfied jalil.  
>Exactly as she had foreseen, her dealings with the gladiator had not gone unnoticed by her family and had been rewarded with despise. In any other circumstances, this would have sent her into the bleakest despair, but that was exactly what she had been aiming for.<p>

Unnoticed by her elder sister, mother and scheming cousins, she had tightened her alliance with house H'Tithet and the network of commercial enterprises they commanded and the joint venture had begun to give its fruits in the shape of revenues. So far, her only involvement had been economic, but Matron Tal'queyllen was pressuring her to take a more active role in the enterprise, by providing armed support for the expeditions, which they could ill afford with their meagre troops.  
>Mez'Barris was confident that she could arrange something, without risking too many of the warriors who had given her allegiance and she already had an idea on how to do that.<br>She was almost sure that a stable contract with a merchant network would more than assuage Jahelas' ill temper when she stole his prized fighter from him.

Mez'Barris was increasingly convinced that if she asked, the warrior would readily consent to be hers. Even if he tried to pretend that everything was alright, she had noticed his anguish at the fact that the Jubilee festival would end in a week and that their next meeting would likely be the last.  
>The fact should have irritated her, as a symptom of weakness, but it didn't, if only for the fact that it played so well in her hands.<br>The warrior was a fruit ripe for the taking, as the saying went.  
>More than ripe, she mused: she might even be able to have him beg to be hers and convince him to buy himself out of the company.<br>She knew he could, she had made him talk, after their encounters, while they recovered, and he had eagerly told her everything she wanted to know, glad that she took an interest in him.

Yes, better to play difficult and to have him work for the prize she could and would have given him without effort.  
>It would be for the best to save her money, if she could, and she would love to hear him beg and she had not managed to make him, so far.<br>Mez'Barris rummaged in her closet searching for another extremely daring outfit, a joke present of one of her cousins, who insisted that she didn't have enough sexy clothes.  
>She stripped and donned the outfit, which didn't cover much but was not unsightly on her, and grinned at her reflection in the mirror.<br>"Yes, - she thought, wrapping a cape around herself to prevent accidents en route to the arena – this is going to be really fun."

A week. A week to go before they had to leave.  
>The troop was already packing, even if the closing ceremony was still a week away.<br>This would be the last week he would be able to see his princess. If he was lucky, they would have a couple of nights more together, most probably just one.  
>His heart felt leaden, numb, and even the prospect of the great melee fight on the closing day was not enough to cheer him up.<br>He sat by the window, honing his dagger as he used to do when he was nervous as the repetitive motion soothed him.

The door of his room opened briskly.  
>Just by the sound of it, he knew it was his princess and, despite himself, he felt like his mood was lightening already.<br>She had always been beautiful to him, even when she came to him in normal, unassuming, street clothes, but that night he couldn't peel his eyes off her and the mere sight of her had him hard as a rock already.

She was wearing a short lizardskin waistcoat with a neckline that barely covered the essential and tight enough that her breasts looked like an offering ready for the taking, a very short lizardskin skirt that left her toned tights bare and high-heeled knee-length boots.  
>"Mistress…" he saluted hoarsely and she grinned, sashaying towards him. The way her hips swayed was completely hypnotic.<p>

"I gather you like my outfit, Crazy Dragon…" she provoked, grinning and striking a pose.  
>"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, mistress." he whispered and it was true and it broke his heart to know that this might be the last time he saw her, the last time he made love to her.<br>She smiled sweetly and closed the distance between them, pressing herself against the length of him and kissing him deeply and passionately. His hands instinctively flew to the fastenings of her waistcoat but she swatted them away.  
>"Tonight we do something different…" she whispered in his ear and detached herself from him, bending at the waist to extract a dagger from her boot.<br>"Oh Goddess." he thought, imagining how wonderful it would be to rip her underwear off and fuck her from behind like that, boots and all, the mere thought making him throb in his trousers.

She straightened again and stalked towards him, dagger in hand, her eyes dark with lust, and licked her lips sensually, leaving him completely paralyzed by desire.  
>"Tonight you submit to me." she whispered again and her dagger made short work of his shirt, whispering against his skin, pressing but not quite cutting. He kept as still as possible, even as his skin tingled and erupted in goosebumps, but he could not contain the moan that escaped his lips.<br>He wanted to tell her that he had already submitted, that she owned everything that he was, but couldn't find the words, couldn't find the breath to talk as the dagger moved to the waistband of his trousers and sheared them off slowly, baring him to her sight.  
>And oh, the way she looked at him possessively and lustfully… It was almost too much.<br>Uthegetal closed his eyes and tightened his hands into fists at his sides to keep calm and let her do whatever she wanted with him.

She kissed him again, hard and demanding, almost bruising, then bit at his shoulder.  
>"To the bed." she commanded roughly and he obeyed, backing towards it on slightly unsteady legs.<br>She shoved him on the mattress and climbed on top of him, taking hold of his hands and pinning them over his head, near the headboard, whispering something under her breath.  
>She released his hands and sat back, straddling his hips and he realized two things: first that she was not wearing anything under that skimpy skirt of hers (he could feel her already wet womanhood against him and it was maddening) and second that his wrists and ankles had been tied to the bed.<br>She must have uttered a spell, he figured, and couldn't help but struggle against the bonds.

His mistress smiled and retrieved her dagger.  
>"I know you do not like being tied up, lover, but I will make you enjoy this, I promise." she declared, tracing his jawline with the tip of the dagger, again without breaking skin but leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.<br>Slowly, the dagger slid over his neck, following the line of his pulse.  
>It was frightening, but also extremely arousing, to know that she had complete control over him, that she could hurt him, but was choosing not to. And the look in her eyes… It set his soul on fire, so full of passion and yet controlled.<br>The cold metal trailed over his collarbone and then down his chest, following lazy patterns on his skin, the pressure of her hand strong enough for him to feel it, to anticipate the possibility of pain, but not enough to draw blood and he felt himself almost wanting it, the pain, the blood, just to end the nerve-wracking, skin-tingling anticipation.

Almost as if she had been reading his thought, the blade nicked him.  
>He let out a small cry, more of surprise than of pain, looked up at her and the ravenous look in her eyes left him breathless.<br>She bent down over him and her mouth closed on the wound, her wet, pink tongue tracing it slowly, as if she was savouring him, the small pain fast fading, replaced by the same overwhelming pleasure he had experienced that first night.  
>They had come full circle, at the end, he thought wistfully.<p>

She didn't stop at that, but her dagger continued moving south, over his abdomen, tracing the contours of his body and peppering his skin in stinging cuts that her mouth eagerly soothed, until he couldn't tell anymore where the pain ended and the pleasure began, only that it was wonderful and that he didn't want it to end. Eager sounds were escaping from his lips and he was struggling against his restraints, not because he didn't like what she was doing to him, but because he wanted more.  
>He didn't care if she bled him to death, only that she didn't stop.<br>The blade glided lower and lower, tantalizingly close to his groin and he froze, not even breathing, his whole body tense in anticipation and, he had to admit it, a bit of fear.  
>Her steady hands slid the dagger along his inner tight, then on his pelvis, almost at the base of his manhood and then the cold steel slipped between his legs, tracing his balls and making him tighten up even more.<br>"Oh, Goddess…" he whispered breathlessly and she took the steel away from his skin, throwing it to the ground. He shivered with loss of sensation and relief, the tension easing minutely.

"I'm not done with you yet." the princess whispered roughly and dipped her head down.  
>Suddenly, unexpectedly, her tongue licked along his cock.<br>He cried out, in pleasure and shock, she laughed and her hot, wet mouth closed around the tip of his manhood.  
>The pleasure was beyond description, as her mouth moved up and down, taking him in more and more every time, her lips encircling him, her tongue lapping eagerly.<br>It was supposed to be something so demeaning that no self-respecting jalil would do it to anyone, but there she was, his princess, going down on him hard and fast and it was so wonderful…  
>Her hands cupped his balls, while her mouth worked up and down, up and down, sucking and licking, taking just the tip of him, tormenting him, and then suddenly taking him all the way to the hilt.<br>He screamed, and arched off the bed in bliss, every second taking him closer to the edge he couldn't let himself reach.  
>Not like this. It simply wasn't done.<br>It would be too much, too disrespectful, even for someone as transgressive as her.  
>Surely, he thought, trying to pull himself from the edge, she would realize his plight and stop, maybe finish him off by hand, or, even better, take him and fuck the living daylights out of him, but she didn't seem to notice how close he was and kept on going.<br>It took every ounce of his force of will to resist the pull of pleasure. He wanted so badly to spill himself into her, but he knew he couldn't and yet the sensation was burning through his veins, making him shiver and tremble, weak and powerless, underneath her.  
>It was unbearable, almost a torture.<p>

He was teetering on the edge, resisting was getting impossible. "Please, mistress, stop. You have to stop! – he pleaded, desperately – Please, please!"  
>He couldn't care less that he sounded weak and pathetic, as long as she stopped and he didn't disgrace himself.<br>His princess heeded him and lifted her head from him. She looked up at him, one of her hands encircling his abused member.  
>"Why do you want me to stop, don't you like this?" she asked, licking her soft lips greedily.<br>"I love everything you do to me, mistress, – he replied, panting – but this is too much."  
>"Is it?" she asked, tilting her head to one side and licking the tip of him gently.<br>Even if her touch was feather-light, his eyes rolled back, leaving him blind and breathless for an instant.  
>"Please, mistress, no more." he pleaded again, shaking his head.<br>"Why?" she breathed, smiling softly.  
>He shook his head again, unwilling to confess, but she took his silence as an excuse to kiss his manhood again.<br>"Oh, please, stop! I'm too close! -he exclaimed, throwing the remainder of his dignity away – I can't resist anymore, mistress, please…"  
>His eyes were clenched shut, but he still detected a hint of a smile in her voice. "I know you're close, I can feel it, I can taste it… – she said huskily and her words were enough to make him tremble – Don't you want release?" she asked and her hand squeezed him gently.<p>

Uthegental tossed his head on the pillow. It felt like his senses were in overdrive. That jalil would drive him totally mad with her words her caresses, her kisses and now this question.  
>It must be a trick, to see how obedient and submissive he was. "No mistress, I don't, I promise. – he said – P-please, mistress…" he stuttered.<br>"Liar." was all she said, before going down on him again.  
>"Oh Goddess! – he screamed – Please, stop! I want it, I want it so badly, but I can't. I know I can't. Please, mistress, have mercy…" he begged, almost incoherently, hands tightening against his bonds as if to brace himself.<br>"Why can't you? Who said it?" she asked quietly, releasing him.  
>By that time, Uthegental had already understood that not responding or lying would only worsen his predicament and answered truthfully. "It is not done, mistress, everybody says so." he gasped.<br>"But I'm not everybody and I say you can. I am your mistress, am I not?" she replied with a serene smile.  
>His heart almost missed a beat: she was giving him leave to let go, really? A wave of gratitude and awe swept over him, leaving him weak and dizzy.<br>"Yes, I am yours, only yours…" he whispered hoarsely, looking down at her with wide, desperate eyes.  
>"Good." she commented with a triumphant grin and took him in her mouth again.<p>

He had thought she would hasten up to get done with it, but he was wrong again.  
>She took her time, moving slowly and tenderly, keeping him on the edge, and pleasure began to build up inside him unbearably again. Her hands had a death grip on his hips, preventing him from thrusting up and increasing the pace.<br>"Please, more. Goddess help me, I need more. – he begged, past pride, past anything that was not that torturous pleasure – Please, fuck me, harder."  
>Surprisingly, she obliged, taking him deeper, harder, faster and he screamed incoherently at her every motion and then release swept over him, so hard that his heart missed a beat, that his whole body seized up, that he had no breath to scream and he even thought that he might die like this, but he didn't care at all and starbursts exploded under his eyelids and then everything went black for an instant.<p>

When he came to his senses again, she was kneeling beside him, cutting him free from the bedframe.  
>His release had been so strong that he was still trembling and his breath came in harsh gasps, almost sobs, the breaking of tension leaving him unable to move and almost bereft.<br>She lifted his head on her lap and caressed his face softly, whispering soothing words and brushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.  
>"I love to hear you beg, - she confessed, brushing her fingertips against his temple and making him shiver again – I love to know that you belong to me."<br>Those words and her smile undid him completely, breaking the last wall of reserve he had left.  
>He belonged to her in truth, there was no denying it, not now that she had him beg for her shamelessly, that she had demonstrated her control over him so thoroughly.<p>

There was a universal truth in the drow civilization: every male belonged to someone else, his mother, his mistress, some female or other, or in the most unfortunate cases, as his was, to another male, who, in turn, belonged to some female.  
>There was no eluding this: the only thing one might be able to choose was the form of his servitude and, with luck, one might be even content with his lot.<br>Now he knew what a true mistress was supposed to be and he didn't want to lose his only chance at a life worth living.  
>He couldn't bear thinking that he would lose her, that he would lose the safety of her control over him, the comfort of her praise and the warmth of her bed.<p>

Her turned on her lap and circled her waist with his arms, curling around her on the bed.  
>"Let me be yours for real, mistress. – he pleaded feverishly – Let me belong to you, serve you. I want to be your slave, whatever you want me to be. Please, I do not want to have to walk away from you."<br>His princess was silent for long moments and his heart sank as he thought that she might refuse him, but her hands kept on petting him gently and finally she spoke. "I do not need a slave, - she began, and his insides froze for a moment in fear – I need a warrior. I need you to be the warrior at my side when I rise to power." she whispered heatedly.  
>He lifted his head from her lap and looked up at her. The look of possessiveness and joy in her eyes was so beautiful.<br>"I can be the warrior you need me to be, mistress. Let me prove myself." he said, looking straight into her eyes.  
>"I know you can and I will ask you to prove yourself, but not now." she purred, leaning down to kiss him. Her lips tasted different and he realized the cause soon enough, but it didn't matter as she pushed him down on the bed again and lay beside him, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it under her skirt.<br>"Now I need something else from you..." she hissed, as his fingertips brushed her soaking wet folds.  
>She was already so wet, just from making him peak, it was unbelievable.<p>

He deftly undid the first clasp of her waistcoat and this time she let him.  
>Her breasts spilled out of its confines, firm and perky and he had to close his eyes to prevent his head from spinning.<br>She smiled lustfully and moaned softly as he dipped his head down to kiss at her breasts, while his fingers slid into her wet core.  
>Her hands wound themselves into his hair. "I would have never let you walk away from me." she sighed, almost inaudibly, but he heard it and smiled against her skin and knew that he needn't fear anymore: she had him exactly where he wanted to be.<p> 


End file.
